Wanderlust (tiny right things)
by Tach-Pistache
Summary: Adolescence really is all about making new friends, playing video games, dying a couple of times, being stuck on a meteor floating through space, exploring your sexuality, crushing on foreign alien guys with absurd genitalia. Yes. Probably.


**Name: Wanderlust (tiny right things)**

 **Warnings : Referenced Past Abuse/Non-con, Referenced Past Rape, Underage.**

 **Author's notes: So, I wrote this for a lovely person during the 2016 Drone Season Challenge. A month after I remembered this website existed.**  
 **Okay, so one of their prompts was Davekat with one of them having a hella big xenokink. They also wanted Dave's canon abuse to be dealt with, an overabundance of parentheses, and general fumbling with sex and romance.**  
 **It goes without saying that I was immediately on board with this Good Shit.**

 **My first language not being English, there may be some mistakes somewhere that my auto-correcter didn't catch, and I apologise. I hope it'll still be enjoyable. Have a nice reading !**

* * *

It's black and white and suddenly it's red, too.

Pink at the centre, a tender glow like a small fire stuck in a jar; purple on the far edges, slick paint all over sharp things. But it's mostly red and Karkat finds out that he doesn't mind, because for once he thinks things are moving in the right direction (upwards, ascending) and, well, it's good. It's a good thing.

He doesn't tell anyone, though. It's stupid (no it's not, look at how many things he's fucked up in the past just by opening his goddamned chomp hole) but he fears that talking about it would spoil, somehow, this weird and unfamiliar feeling of _rightness_.

Yes – talking would wrong it, maybe. It would change its course so it wouldn't go up anymore, but down, nowhere, disappear in the vast void of space.

He doesn't want this to happen. So, for once, he keeps quiet, and he waits.

* * *

 **10**

\- Hey, says Dave from his side of the room.

\- What? Karkat snaps back.

He's ready for one of his endless questions-and-answers games, or a philosophical banter about whatever absurd concept he has in mind right now (Karkat can't say he doesn't find those interesting, though).

They've spent the last twenty minutes in comfortable quietness. It happens more often lately, which is nice, Karkat thinks, because he had never really reached that point in a relationship with anyone before (or maybe Sollux, but still, it wasn't the same. Not as... Wholesome). Plus, after a couple of perigees stuck on a floating meteor with the same six people, tranquillity is always welcomed.

He is currently picking up the pieces of a tea set Terezi has broken last day because yes, sometimes, he does his share of chores, thank you very much, this meteor isn't going to clean itself; Dave is doing... Whatever he does when no one speaks to him, which is looking at the ceiling and mumbling to himself (he says he finds the sound of his own voice soothing. Karkat has stopped worrying a long time ago).

The silence lasts. Karkat looks up and throw a glance at Dave. He still hasn't answered and that is not particularly reassuring.

\- I said _what_ , he repeats.

\- I know, says Dave.

Things are definitely weird _._

\- Dave? he asks, approaching him carefully (but not too much, because that'd be even weirder, like, they've barely settled in the red quadrant and Karkat is already starting to think it won't be _enough_ , and it's strange, and it freaks him out, and he doesn't want to think about it just yet, so. Not too careful.)

\- Yeah, I could hear you perfectly well from the other side of the room, and by other side I mean those twenty centimetres of pure and crispy air between us. I know it's hard to believe, but what can I say, we Striders always had had reality-defying abilities.

Okay, this, Karkat knows, he can play along, yeah, that's easy.

\- Will you please do us all a favour and finally stop talking about you like you're some kind of smokesniffing disdainful alien deity, when everybody knows you're a living walking fuckcrumpet with an ego the size of the pile of garbage you blurt out every god-forsaken time you open your mouth?

And then he punches him (but not too hard, because remember the thing about not rushing things up earlier? Yeah.)

\- Kinky, replies Dave with a smile (that odious motherfucker), but then he bites his lower lip and Karkat's answer vanishes in his mouth before it even gets a chance to get out.

Suddenly, he's made very aware of how close they are, and how stupidly Dave's hair stick out on his nape, and of the way he smells, a basic and almost dusty _human_ smell and hey, is he blushing? God, he's totally blushing.

There's a warmth in his chest, his fingers, that he tries to suppress. Now's not the time, he tells himself, and it half-works.

(It'd probably work better without the pretty intense eye-contact though.)

But when he finally decides to go and sit somewhere else because as he said, now's not the time, Dave also decides to stop chewing on his own skin and opens his mouth:

\- Let's try it again.

* * *

 **1**

Karkat feels like somehow, he should have seen it coming.

Although _why_ or _how_ , he doesn't know. It's just there.

They've been stuck on this stupid meteor for around ten or eleven lunar cycles now, or so he thinks, approximately half a perigee. Right now they're almost done with mapping the whole thing, and Kanaya and Rose have been trying to make the living room more comfy (the labs are huge, but dark and empty, and that's creepy). Vriska as usual is gone "talking" with Terezi (Karkat is positive they're pale flirting but he doesn't want to pry, _no he doesn't_ ), so now it's only him, Rose, and Dave.

Something must have broken off in the installation, the AC or something (why would these labs even have AC in the first place?), and Karkat is pretty sure he's never felt this _hot_ in his entire lifespan. Which is, admittedly, not much, but still. They still have to find what caused the damage... And, eventually, repair it (but none of them is a technician, and really, even though the guy was an egocentric classicist douche, Karkat misses Equius sometimes).

Lying on the cold metal floor (thanks goodness for stereotypically creepy laboratories thank you so much), he's half listening to Dave and Rose's conversation. He could go somewhere else, technically, but it feels like his legs have turned into wriggler jelly food and he probably wouldn't be able to get in his room without passing out because it is so _goddamn hot_. So staying there it is.

It's a small consolation, but Rose seem to suffer from the heat as much as he does (and his Land was a fucking volcano, let's not forget this). Only Dave looks okay with how things are going – he must be used to heat. Shirtless, and only a little sweaty, he's sitting next to him, talking to a visibly not-interested Rose like he doesn't care (and maybe he doesn't? Karkat still hasn't analysed the subtleties of the humans' "familial" relationship. He only knows one thing: it's fucking gross that's what it is.)

Humans are fucking gross all the time, Karkat thinks whilst looking at Dave. Even physically speaking. Brown skin under white hair, such a weird colour palette, none of that grey softness of young trolls, or the pure, slick black of old ones like he's seen in the movies. No contrasts, no gradients, only colours on colours, golden on brown on ochre on pink around the ribcage where the sweat glimmers. Their veins are blue, Karkat notes, under that weird skin of theirs. It's even grosser. He's grossed out. Everyone is.

Dave's fingers are long, thin like an indigo's, somebody who doesn't use their own hands to fight. Karkat can't help but be slightly amazed by how short his claws are. There are scars around his wrists, on the inside of his thighs, and a long one on his chest too, and maybe if humans had had the good idea to let their claws grow, they would have known how to defend themselves, for god's sake.

Humans are gross, for sure, and upsettingly pathetically frail and fragile, and Karkat is still looking at Dave's hands and Dave's scar on his chest that follow the curve of his bones when he talks, a faint, shameful shade of red, dusted with dark freckles like those of a seadweller, except he's not, _of fucking course_.

The grossest part is that they're not even that different from trolls, but they are, in small, stupid, meaningless ways.

It's almost against his will that his eyes follow the thin trail of white hair going down on Dave's flat stomach, the one that disappears under his pants – another great big question because okay, the short claws, humans have no basic survival instinct, he can get this. But hair? On your body? Isn't head hair enough? What the everlasting _fuck_ were they thinking when they all trashpuking baboons created their dumb human universe? They should have made a better job.

" _Does it go even lower?"_ Karkat can't help but ask himself, _for science_ , because hair around your bulge and nook would be terribly unpractical and retain fluid. But then again, maybe humans... Don't have bulges? They're brown and pink and have round pupils like fish and they don't see in the dark, so, maybe they've pushed the alien-ness this far and...?

That'd be even weirder than everything else. Yep. Definitely weird.

And he's. Still staring.

Karkat can feel his insides heating up and slowly turning to mush, acutely conscious of his too-wide eyes and his barely moving chest. As much as he'd like to stop, he just can't tear his eyes away from Dave Strider's hands, and Dave Strider's chest, who keeps being brown and white and like, what? What? What does this even mean? Does Karkat have a fondness for aliens or something? Is that it? The punch-line to this awful parody of a life that he's playing right now? Seven perigees to get there? To get a crush on an alien guy who thinks he's hot stuff? No way! No way.

It can't be true. It'd be horrible. It'd be disastrous. It'd be illegal. It's probably like... Bestiality, or something. Humans are born bipeds. It's ridiculous.

"But what about John?" a small treacherous voice asks in his head – well, hey, it's clearly different! Whatever he felt about John was purely sentimental – like he could have felt any kind of physical attraction to this trashy dirtlicking dickweed, right? Because he didn't? Right?

(Wait. Didn't he?)

\- What do you think, Karkat? Dave suddenly asks him (what was he even talking about?), and turns to him with his mouth slightly open on his stupid round alien teeth, and to his _absolute horror_ , Karkat feels his bulge wiggle happily inside his sheath (shit shit shit shit _shit_ ).

\- Right, he croaks.

His sexual awakening is being provoked by a foreign creature from outer space.

Everything is awful and he wants to die.

* * *

 **8**

When Karkat manages to break the kiss, and gather all of his strength to ask Dave if he wants to do anything more (which clearly is an euphemism for _I've been having sexual fantasies about you for like forever now and I want to touch you so much it hurts sometimes_ , but he's seven and a half perigees, so euphemisms are nice), he's almost too busy marvelling at the fact he didn't spontaneously combust or anything to register his answer:

\- Oh, yeah, sure. Why are you even asking in the first place?

And then Dave laughs. It's a short, brief laugh that Karkat has never heard before. It doesn't sound hopeful, or relieved, or mad; if anything, a bit hollow. It's not... Exactly what he was expecting (well, he doesn't really know what he was expecting, but not this, clearly, not this.)

Karkat's confusion increases when Dave gets up and starts to undress, lazily, as if he didn't care, as if everything was perfectly cool, and as if he wasn't going to have sex with an alien – come on, was Karkat the only one to freak out here?

But then, he notices the tension in his arms, and how stiff Dave's neck is, and yes, something is wrong with this situation, and all of Karkat's enthusiasm disappears and leave place for some kind of vague fear, a worry he can't explain.

-Wait, he tells Dave.

He's almost finished undressing. His socks and pants are still on and he's currently putting away his trousers. It's too methodical, so carefully not-prepared that it's obviously all fake. A sour taste spreads in Karkat's mouth.

\- What?

\- What are you doing? Karkat asks.

Dave frowns:

\- Well, what do you think I'm doing? Don't you want to have sex or something?

Karkat is relieved to see that even though he's the only blushing like crazy, Dave's ears are also quite red, because that's one shitty embarrassing situation here – but he does his best to not get too distracted and tries to gather all of the data he's acquired on human sexuality (did he do something wrong? Is that how it's supposed to go?):

\- Well, I don't know, he says slowly. You look kind of, well, not really cool with that. And, also, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be the one to undress you.

Dave's eyebrows are now raised in puzzlement:

\- What do you mean, "I'm pretty sure?"

Karkat takes one second to try and make a nice sentence out of "I've been looking at an extensive collection of videos of your species wildly fucking in all kind of places to be sure I wouldn't do anything stupid". He gives up the second later.

\- Let's not talk about this right now, okay? This is already pretty awkward like that and wow, okay, I'm making it worse. Okay, like, of course I don't know about the way humans have sex, but it seems...

\- Wait, because trolls have special ways to have sex? Dave asks, looking really perplexed now, and maybe almost panicking, and surprisingly enough that doesn't improve Karkat's mood:

\- I don't know! I mean, yeah, it's probably different, but you're the human right here, I'm just trying to make things work between us, okay?

\- Well, I was doing the right thing!

Oh fuck, was he?

Dave almost looks reassured. It could be okay. But his hands are still clutching his trousers, white bones under brown skin, and Karkat still has this weight in his stomach, this sourness in between his teeth. So no, he decides, something is still up.

\- Karkat, can you stop panicking for one second? I know how it goes, okay?

\- But, I'm just saying, from what I've seen the guys were there and then...

Then he gets it:

\- What do you mean, you know how it goes? he asks.

He's never seen Dave's face close up this fast.

Dread makes his stomach twist as he looks up to see Dave's eyes, and Dave's eyes are not meeting his, looking at the floor instead, and fuck, he's messed up, he's messed up, things are fucked up and he's the one who did it, fuck, what is going on?

Karkat quickly thinks about it. When Dave entered the game, he was about his age, and he's not one for shaming (just look at his weird repulsive self) but six and a half perigees is a young age to fool around with the people you like. Did he date people during the game? Very quickly they were the only ones on the meteor and okay, did Dave have sex with... Who? Karkat's never seen him hanging around anyone, except maybe for Rose (but that'd be weird for humans, right?) and Terezi. But then again, Dave wouldn't look like this if it was only about Terezi, right?

His face is the most expressionless thing he's ever seen (worse than the first half perigee in his company, so young, so sarcastic, so utterly and completely alone). For one moment, it seems he's going to run away. Karkat is almost sure he sees the thought going through his mind.

But then he grits his teeth, and Karkat has to listen very carefully to hear:

\- What is it you wanted to do?

What is it he...?

He doesn't know. He tries to be honest (there's no time for insults and double-entendres and innuendos, it's time to spit the truth, because the situation is Very Wrong and he doesn't want Dave to feel Very Wrong):

\- I'm not really sure. Whatever you would have liked, I suppose. Um, it'd have felt really nice, personally? To do something you would have enjoyed? I mean, it's maybe not really the time to discuss all of _this_ , but, ah – you know.

Dave finally meets his eyes: the expressionless facade falls off to reveal pure confusion. _"He doesn't understand"_ , Karkat tells himself, and it's nauseating for a reason he doesn't quite grasp, makes him angry, make him worried:

\- What were _you_ going to do?

Dave shrugs.

\- You know.

\- No, actually, I don't.

\- Well, I just. You know. Let you do your thing.

Then he shrugs again, and his shoulders slump a little as he sits on the floor, and he's not crying and he's not talking but he looks so deeply _miserable_ , legs too long for his arms, brown skin and all, the face of someone who wants to talk and cannot and maybe doesn't want to at the same time, uneasy, awkward, and Karkat has never felt more pity in his life, for anyone, ever.

This adds up nicely to his pent-up anger and Karkat just, kind of _explodes_ :

\- Okay, first of all, which braindead fuckmunchkin has ever taught you anything about romance, because let me tell you about Wrongville, well guess what that's where they're standing right now, the pathetic rotten dingus, as an official new town member they're hereby removed of the privilege to teach anything to kids.

Dave opens his mouth to protest (Karkat knows he will if he let him), and he cuts him, because he has to say something, he can't just let him here and what? What did that mean, "let you do your thing"? No, that's not right, it's not:

\- Second: this, right here, was fifty shades of fucked-up. It was fucked-up, okay? Let's not tiptoe around the issue like we're polite and stuff, I even propose we fucking _smash_ that issue because okay, wow, Dave, what was that? What did you think, that I was going to, what, use you as some kind of living sex-doll? Oh, wait, shit, is – is _that_ what you're into? Did I watch the wrong stuff?

\- The wrong stuff? Dave repeats with a faint smile.

\- You're deflecting.

\- _You_ 're deflecting.

\- I said, let's not talk about right now!

\- You wanted honesty. I'm honest. Did you watch human porn so you'd be prepared for a possible encounter with our genitalia?

It's even weirder when _he_ says it.

\- _Educated_ , Karkat mumbles (his ears are probably brick red by now, fuck his blood, fuck his whole body, why is he even justifying himself in the first place?). I was trying to get educated. It was for science, Dave. Strictly educational purposes.

\- Sure thing.

Dave's smile is a bit steadier now, and Karkat notes that some of the tension in his shoulders is gone. They're not sitting very close: Karkat makes a conscious effort to leave him be, leave him some space, so he doesn't feel pressured or threatened or anything.

Dave scratches the back of his head and laughs again. It's embarrassed, and maybe a bit forced, but it's better than the strange, horrible hollow sound he's made before.

\- I'm touched, he says.

\- You better be. I've seen some pretty weird things.

\- Weird like what?

\- Weird like I don't want to talk about it ever.

\- Ever?

\- Ever. A big, enthusiastic, definitive ever.

\- Okay, okay, but then you have to answer this, my dude: do you like dicks?

It's probably a joke, but at the same time, it doesn't really feel like one. That'd be a very _Dave_ thing to do, ask a big question and pass it out as some irony bullshit. Yeah, that'd make sense. Karkat makes sure to choose his words with care:

\- Yeah, I think so. Do you?

It's definitely not the most brilliant thing he's ever said, but Dave's face does that thing where suddenly, a hundred different emotions follow each other, furrowing his brow, twisting his mouth, shaping him like he's so soft and malleable. That thing that makes Karkat want to hold him close and speak softly to him and wow, hey, that thought is kind of _pale_ , isn't it? He was about to pail the guy ten minutes ago, what about consistency? But then again, this is rapidly turning into a feeling jam, and from what he's seen humans like mashing quadrants together, like it's perfectly normal to wear soft robes and talk about your deepest inner thoughts and seconds later wildly fuck each other on a table, yes, nothing's wrong with this picture, nothing to worry about Ma'am.

Dave finally seems to find his voice back after a while:

\- Oh, well. I don't know. It's complicated. I'm not sure I like. Anyone, in that way.

\- Oh, Karkat says, trying his best not to sound _completely devastated_.

But he must have failed somewhere (how could he? Him, the master of disguise?) because Dave immediately adds:

\- It's not that I. Don't want. It's just that it's... I just don't know anything about. How all of this truly goes. Apparently?

\- Well – I don't know. I'm not saying that you're wrong, it's just that you look – you don't look really okay with how things are going, and...

\- No. No, I'm wrong. I'm wrong. This is wrong. This was all wrong. All of it. Wrong. I'm wrong. So wrong. Fuck.

Inhale, exhale, then he keeps going on:

\- All right, you deserve to hear it. It's all a... Work in progress. I had a suspicion for a while that I wasn't... Maybe the way I was taught this stuff was... A bit fucked-up? So I simply don't know. And that's why I don't... Like anything. At least, not really? Maybe a bit. Some stuff. But. Yeah, I. I've done some thinking recently, and I've got to keep. Keep thinking about it for a while. Maybe talk about it with someone. Like, uh. Rose maybe. Or, well. Someone.

Karkat really wants to say "me, please tell me, what is wrong, what happened to you, how can I help, is there a way to help you at all", but he doesn't. Partly because Dave looks like he's making an intense effort to get those words out, as if his body was working against him, and he doesn't want to make him say what he cannot say yet. Partly because that's already a lot to take in, and maybe they can do this later. And yeah, partly because if Dave talks again Karkat is pretty sure it'll become his _duty_ to shooshpap him and they'll both probably cry and _okay_ , let's stop the wild diamond fantasies here, it's steamy enough as it is.

(Dave's thinking about it. About whatever shady stuff happened to him. That's good, Karkat realises, that's good because if the issue had come up a perigee earlier Dave would have straight-up attacked him (he remembers terrible conversations about human sexuality and gender and broken things and angry silences) but no. Not now. They've grown up, grown out of things.)

So instead he says:

\- Okay. It's okay. I'm okay with this. Don't – apologise or anything. It's okay. Do what you have to do. We'll talk about this later. Or... Whenever. It's okay.

Dave's shoulders slump again, but this time it's in relief:

\- Good, he sighs out.

The way he says it, so relieved, like he thought Karkat was going to get mad, makes Karkat's bloodpusher beat faster – Dave lived through something very shitty for sure, something that Karkat doesn't want to happen to him ever again, and damn... This is what pity _feels like_ , he thinks in shock.

\- Good, he repeats.

It's true. It's good. He's good with this.

There's a small moment of silence between them. Dave is the first one to speak again:

\- Still. I can't believe you had to watch porn from our internet so you could know what we looked like down there.

Karkat groans. Way to ruin the moment, Strider.

\- I told you – I wanted to be prepared. What did you want? Given the way humans look, I'd have taken a peek at the thing and probably collapsed or something.

\- Hey, it's not that bad, is it?

\- It's – well, no, it's not, I mean, once you get used to it, it's not.

Dave smirks, and Karkat snarls:

\- Spare me your judgment, Strider, I'm doing my best to make things work! It's not easy getting to know the genitalia of another sentient species without looking like the biggest creep the universe has ever seen!

\- Nah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just cute. It's... Such an alien thing to do. Star Trek weirdness level I tell you. John would cream his pants, that shit is downright his lane. Does that mean you don't have dicks at all? Or... Vaginas, or whatever?

Dave does his best to not look interested, but Karkat knows him better than that now. And maybe that's also a way to subtly redeem himself or whatever he thinks he has to do. Show that he's not completely insensible. He decides to play along:

\- Oh, yeah, what if we didn't?

\- Dude, cut the mystery bullshit, you _totally_ have to tell me. You can't keep that a secret. I'll ask Terezi, you know. Or Vriska. You don't want me to ask Vriska, do you?

\- I don't know. I think it's nice if you discover it on your own. It's fair.

\- No, it's not fair, it's not fair at all, we can't do the good old "I'll show you mine if you show me yours", I'm feeling really disadvantaged right now.

\- Gee, Strider, your life sure is complicated.

\- Come on, you can't leave me hanging like this.

\- Why, because that'd make you so immensely uncomfortable you'd rather stop talking to me, crushed by the weight of shame? Or because you find troll anatomy painfully bizarre and uselessly stupid, yet incomprehensibly hot and attractive, and sometimes look at our horns or chests and think "damn, I know it's fucked-up but I'd tap that"?

(The blush spreads on Dave's cheeks at light speed and Karkat can't help feeling a little satisfied with himself.)

* * *

 **6**

\- And there, Dave says (pointing to the fuckton of buttons on his device and probably thinking about a very particular one), you control the length of the actual beat sound, which coupled with this one (he points to another button Karkat can't see) can make it go long, then short, because you've cut it into two different parts, you remember?

\- Yeah, yeah, I do, you've literally said it a minute ago.

\- Well you can never be too sure. It's pretty complicated stuff, you know. A long-lost science. I'm the last person alive to detain the subtleties of music-making.

\- Wow, please excuse my earlier disrespect, Strider the great Threnodealer, I was too baffled by your complete lack of shame when it comes to describing yourself that for one second I forgot who I was talking to.

Dave flicks Karkat's shoulder, playfully (probably playfully, platonically playfully):

\- Karkat, man, we're talking business. We're talking forgotten knowledge! Pay some attention, like okay I know I'm absolutely irresistible and wildly stupid or something like this, but can you keep your blatant black crush on hold for an hour?

\- As if anyone would actually admire you enough to possibly sustain the black sparks concerning your pathetic sickening life. All humans are weak as pure soft oinkbeast shit and you perfectly know this. There's no way for a respectable and self-loving troll to one day conceive any kind of hate for your useless cakesniffing species.

\- What about Vriska and Rose?

\- What didn't you understand about respectable and self-loving?

Dave fakes drying a single tear on his cheek and gets more comfortable on the couch. Judging by how things are going, they're not going to get up at all today, because once Dave will be finished showing off with his insane music skills (okay, Karkat must admit that he thinks it's actually pretty cool, and Dave has proposed they make music together, which sounds fun) Karkat really wants to show him the fourth movie in the "AYTFHSOAMAFLITPOAYAFACDS" series that he's refused to see last week because "it wasn't the right time". Well guess what Strider, today's the day!

Karkat is (unsurprisingly) okay with this.

Not because he secretly hopes it'll evolve into some kind of confession scene, rapidly turning into a first interspecies pail session, or anything.

Okay, that... Didn't sound very sincere.

Dave keeps on talking about his human music machine and Karkat follows with as much attention as he can give him, which is a lot, but not as much as he'd like to, because he can't help thinking about other things – and that's actually frustrating! First because he really wants to share Dave's interests and know more about him; second, because when the shameful object of your sexual urges is sitting right next to you, thigh against thigh, firm and soft and close, it's hard to keep it in your pants.

(Focus, Karkat. Focus!)

It's getting ridiculous.

A summary is in order.

Much to Karkat's horror, the more Dave and he spend time together, the more he finds himself to like the guy. _Truly_ like him.

Sometimes he reminds him of Sollux, which makes him a bit nostalgic (he misses him, really, he does), but Dave has a special, unmistakable way of talking, and of keeping silent, that Karkat likes for itself.

He's not going to lie: for the first half-perigee or so, Dave was kind of hitting on his nerves. He was brutal, and cynical, and sarcastic, and dry, and aggressive, typically the kind of guy Karkat cannot stand because he's not even a tiny bit sincere with others, nor with himself, and that's also totally who past-him was, fuck that guy, anyway, moving on.

But he's made progresses. They both did. Karkat has seen Dave grow up, mellow out, his voice get _freaking hilarious_ for a while then come back to normalcy; slowly, gradually, they had stopped exchanging cold looks and tried to talk to each other, because, yeah... There's not really much to do here, is there?

(Karkat cannot say he wasn't a tiny bit pleased with this, because his Human fantasies had quickly evolved into Dave-only fantasies for absolutely no reason, so he was relieved to get to know the person behind the alien body – it made him feel less like a creepy pervert and more like a young hormonal troll with a very hot friend.)

(An extremely hot alien friend. Hm.)

The first thing they do as newfound acquaintances is to watch together this pile of DVDs Vriska has found in the corner of one of the labs. It turns out it's a slightly lame, but endearing Alternian TV show about time-travel neither of them had seen before. Because no one else joins their sessions, they're the only one who can discuss it properly.

It's slightly awkward at first, as all friendships start off, and gets easier with time. Karkat discovers Dave can provide with surprisingly good insight on character development. It makes him a good movie-buddy. He sucks at analysing relationships, though, but he's confident he'll learn some day.

So it kind of starts like this. They watch this show together (there is nine seasons of it, they both discreetly tear up during the finale). They reference it together during breakfast; they bicker about who is going to get the remote to press the _next_ button. They make small talk during the breaks; they both try and alchemise popcorn to make it more official (it doesn't work, they end up eating human noodles and spill oil on the cushions, and it's the first time they laugh together without anyone else to hear).

Dave's immature. Kind of gross too, in this particular human way Karkat's getting used to. And he's funny, yeah, although he still has difficulties getting when he's joking or not (like with this leaves bullshit, okay, apparently humans eat plants for fun? But it's actually really poisonous and they do it to prove their superiority over each other? Is that shit real? It looks too complicated to be true. And Rose eats too much "salad" or whatever for it to be really dangerous).

Karkat is also surprised by how _clever_ Dave is (even though he seems to be ashamed of it, when really Karkat thinks it's one of his most brilliant qualities). Sure, he has his bad days; he gets cold and distant and sometimes really violent, too. But they spend more time together, and now Karkat can tell when Dave is down (it's in his eyes, vacant look behind the shades, carefully constructed inexpressive face), so he does his best.

They both do their best.

(That's where the part with black, white and unexpected sudden red (like a blood flood, blood in the sea, blood in his veins, flowing full of life) comes in.)

Karkat feels like he's changing. Evolving, maybe. Ascending in a sense. He likes it. It feels right. His friendship with Dave feels right. Every so often, he faintly remembers something that may or may not have happened; a time where they did not connect, they did not even try, and when he thinks about it... He gets a little sad.

But here, on this particular plane of time and space, they're alive, and they're friends. Karkat thinks he's lucky.

(That's when he decides to not talk about it, and just wait.)

In the end, Dave is very brave, and very cool (but don't tell him though), and very fucking annoying. And Dave, as Karkat discovers when he first sees him having a panic attack (dark room, red blood everywhere, and it's not his fault, he broke something all right, but now there's his blood everywhere and Dave cannot stop freaking out even though it's okay, really, it's okay, it doesn't even hurt, wait are you crying?), may be a tiny bit fucked-up too.

And _oh_ , he feels his bloodpusher swell when he thinks about it, and then, he knows he's done for, because there's the admiration part, right, and the compassion part, sure, and all of this together looks an awful lot like pity.

Pity? For a human guy? Yeah.

And that's funny, because Karkat is starting to think he's fallen back into some kind of... Ancient troll feral state, when heat cycles were A Thing. So red feelings were _just_ what he needed to flesh out his developing sexual fantasies (hint, it was irony. It's not funny. It's dramatic.)

Yeah. About the sex. Well.

Karkat keeps dreaming. Getting nightdreams, daydreams, whatever, point is, he can't stop himself and it's borderline absurd how many of his dreams are about Dave Strider, and about him, getting it on with Dave Strider. Do all of his troll friends dream so much about sex? He's not actually sure they do.

Clearly he shouldn't have seen those videos. Damn you, natural curiosity! Now he can't stop playing them in his head, and it merges with what he discovers everyday about humans, about Dave, and he's horrified whenever he looks at him and thinks, shit, what does his dick feels like?

(From what he's read and seen it's supposed to be hard, but what does hard mean? How hard? Bulges are slick and soft, most of them, sneaky things covered in material and they coil and bend delicately, and dicks don't look like this. They're pink and weird and unbelievably solid, he can't get his head around it.)

He wonders what it would feel like inside him – fuck, he can't even do that thing humans do and... Finger his nook or anything to get an idea because _hello_ trusty claws, okay, maybe the humans didn't have such stupid ideas sometimes, but god, Karkat would die to know how it feels like, to have Dave inside him, to have Dave fucking him (yes, _fuck yes_ ) because how different could it be? How different is it?

One day, he and Dave spend the night on the couch because they've just watched a horror movie, and both agree walking around alone in dark and creepy labs is probably not safe. When Karkat wakes up, Dave is dead asleep on top of him, an inert warm mass weighting on his chest, shades out of place and drool on his chin (such trust, Karkat can't believe it) and he wonders what it'd feel like to have Dave riding him. He dreams of the flush on his face and of his mouth opening on those absurdly soft teeth –

(oh shit, how would it feel like to have Dave suck his bulge like humans do with each other? Trolls can't do this because of their teeth, and the simple idea is making Karkat's blood boil because it's so weird, so impossibly red and pale and black at the same time, so fucked-up, so _alien_ , and it's probably so good too because Dave has nice full lips and it's probably very soft, very hot too, _ah_ –).

He wants Dave to be as humanely happy as possible. Now that he's used to seeing him relaxed and smiling, with the smile that does things to his stomach, Karkat finds himself wishing to be a reason for him to smile, and moan like humans do, and feel nice like humans do.

He'd show him, yeah, he'd show him what bulges can do, and he knows now that humans do produce genetic material (not much, though, and they don't keep it anywhere for later, that's interesting, he'll have to ask Rose about it someday) so he also wants to taste it, because it's different, and because it'd mean something, maybe, Karkat doesn't really know.

The thing is... He's a bit ashamed of all of it. Not because it's weird or anything! The first initial humiliation, of liking people who weren't even part of his species, is long gone (mostly because it became clear at some point that everyone had a xeno kink on this stupid meteor).

No – he's ashamed because he feels like Dave is barely coming out of this shell of faked detachment he gets in when he feels threatened, and trusts him, somehow, now, not to be an enemy. So it's complicated to break the news about his ever-developing sexual fantasies. It'd surely come off as a bit... Predatory. Maybe? Or just plain weird. Bad in any case.

(Furthermore, Dave probably just sees him as a friend. Karkat knows how uneasy he gets when the topic of sexuality comes up in their conversations. Getting to the point he can sleep in the same room as him is already great.

It's great, and it feels awful.)

Anyway, long story short: Karkat's xeno crush happened to be a decent person and now he thinks he pities him and also, right now, Dave's hand is resting on his leg and is that actually happening?

\- Karkat? Hey, are you all right?

\- Hm? Yeah. All right. Sure. Why? Why are you asking?

\- You're, uh, making that weird sort of cricket noise. Been making it for a solid minute now. Can't you hear it?

Karkat is suddenly very, very glad he's the only troll in the room (he's been making it out loud, for fuck's sake this is getting out of control). He tries to hide his embarrassment behind an insulted tirade:

\- Jesus, Dave, I can't believe you, do you really have no basic idea of how us trolls work at all? Have you been around us lately or do you just have so much shit oozing out from all of your sensorial orifices you can't even register the simplest thing in your close environment? We chirp all the time, you offensive moron, it's like, troll bodily function 101, don't tell me you've never noticed?

\- Well, forgive me, I'm not writing down all the weird stuff your alien species does when they're alone, I'm not like Rose, I've got a life, I'm a busy man!

\- Sure you are, Karkat says, and then quickly tries to change the subject: I was listening, you know. No need to stop every time I blink in case I've been sending Morse messages to my distant untamed cousins.

\- You don't even know Morse.

\- Like hell I don't. I'm the Morse master. I'm so good at Morse, you wouldn't even believe it.

\- Yeah, right, says Dave.

Then he goes back to talking. His hand is still on Karkat's leg, he's forgotten about it. It's soft and harmless and very light. Karkat makes sure he doesn't look at it, but at one point Dave moves slightly and their eyes meet and they're both, suddenly, _very_ conscious of how close they are.

Dave looks down, then up.

\- I don't mind, Karkat says hastily. It's okay, it's cool, I –

\- You're doing it again, Dave replies. The cricket sound.

\- Ah. Hm.

He's blushing, he's blushing so hard it feels like his whole face is on fire, and Dave just keeps looking at him – he's going to get it, he's not stupid, and could his throat stop making that sound now, thank you?

\- I don't really control it.

\- Oh, yeah, well. It's okay. I don't mind either.

He looks so sincere. So genuine. It must mean something. It must mean...

\- Oh, Karkat says softly. Okay.

He's so fucked. He's so fucked.

* * *

 **4**

Of course Sollux also had to download their entire porn industry because otherwise, it wouldn't have been _funny_.

Karkat cannot believe he's doing this. The only porn he's ever seen was a (admittedly awful) pale video cut from an old movie, and a strange "artsy" black romance leading to a sex scene with too many fadeouts. At the time, he didn't really get what the fuss was all about (although he knew there was _something_ to the sex concept, he just... Didn't fully grasp it.)

But what about now? Is he okay with it? Does he really want to go there?

The answer is actually quite clear in his mind – yes. Yes, he does. Not because he feels pressured to do so (and it's true, even though he'd have been less than half a perigee away from reaching Pailing Duties if he'd lived on Alternia), but because, hey, he kind of want to discover that stuff on his own, now.

Of course, he knows that porn isn't how you learn about your bodies, it's only fiction, all of these things. But what else can he do? Go to Dave, say "hey, would you mind getting naked and engage in sexual intercourse with me so I can learn about human anatomy first-hand?" Or Rose, for that matter, Karkat isn't actually picky. Anyway, it probably wouldn't work, and – no, okay, he should not be thinking about it in the first place, all right? It's not a matter of being sexually active. It's a matter of knowing: so he goes, he watches, he learns, he never comes back ever again.

Yeah. Good plan. He's ready. He's going to do it. Just so you watch.

Karkat clicks on the link, opens the window, is faced with at least a dozen ads of _unbelievably huge_ human bulges, lets an undignified squeal out and promptly logs the fuck off.

He's left alone with his legs shaking and his bloodpusher wildly beating in his chest, laptop burning his thighs, its fan whirling like crazy.

Well. It didn't exactly go as planned.

Karkat doesn't try it again for a whole lunar cycle – doesn't even want to think about it, doesn't look at his computer, doesn't look at Dave Strider or Rose Lalonde, just doesn't do _anything_. But after a while, slowly, temptation creeps back from wherever it hid itself in Karkat's mind, and with it reappear the fantasies, the wild thoughts, the maddening curiosity – the desire to learn what this is all about, learn about himself too.

He comes back, one night, when he's sure everyone else is asleep. The links are always there – he knows what to do. He's prepared now.

He clicks. Ads pop up. He grits his teeth, and calmly (sooo fucking calm) closes the windows, one by one, so he's only left with the original website.

And now, he can do whatever he wanted to do.

Wow, humans sure have weird classification categories, he tells himself, and softly snicker in the dark, a bit nervously, as he scrolls down this list of absurd human porn concepts (it's both embarrassing and kind of exciting; it's a very peculiar feeling, but it's not particularly bad, either).

There's so much he doesn't know – fuck, it's human porn, he's watching human porn when he barely knows his own species, is that fucked-up ? – so he just ends up picking something that doesn't sound too dramatic or foreign.

He clicks on play.

He ends up watching five videos in a row.

It's only when the sixth one automatically starts that he blinks, comes back to his senses, and a pure rush of panic makes him remove his laptop battery in one swift motion so everything can just _stop_.

The computer's screen makes a tiny "pzoo" sound and turns to black. Karkat feels his blood pumping in his ears, his hands shaking, cold air on his sclera. The silence in the room seems awfully heavy, all of a sudden. The computer's battery is burning his hand.

Okay. Okay. Calm down, now, dude. Let's... Let's just summarise what you've seen.

What has he seen?

Humans are so fucked-up. So fucked-up. He's not even turned on at this point because it was just so fucking _bizarre_ , there was no place for anything like desire in his mind: all available space had been taken by an infinite ribbon of tiny interrogation marks, exactly like these: ?

The first thing that comes to his mind now is: shit, humans sure like to mix up quadrants. Those last two – male and female, he's pretty sure of it – weren't acting red at all (at least not for the first thirty seconds), like please, have some decency, what were you doing cuddling on this couch like a picture-perfect diamond pair?

Second thing – holy shit... Holy shit. The fuck are those noises. The fuck are those teeth. The fuck are humans. They suck on each other's bulges, oh god – _oh god_ , this is so alien, but of course they can, no fangs, soft tongue, fuck, of course they can...

Males really do not have nooks. Now that's a pity, because honestly, Karkat thinks nooks are kind of neat – but instead they have those strange dick bulges and what, what the fuck, it goes in their arse? Karkat is lost, Karkat's confused, because it's so different, okay? It's so different from what he's used to. Eyes, faces, moans, chests – it's not at all like what he's been taught by his lusus.

And yet! And yet, fuck – Karkat can't help but imagine – fuck, he's the worst, the worst friend, the worst troll, but there's no one there and he indulges, for one second, in the thought of Dave Strider muffling his cries into his shirt and – fuck, he's actually turned on by alien pornography, no, not even pornography, but by the idea of a guy he barely knows bending over a table – fuck, fuck, it may have been kind of hot in the end, fuck his life, fuck everything, fuck his bulge and fuck the hand that goes down to meet it – _fuck_.

He bites into the flesh of his other hand so he doesn't make a noise when he gets off; then swears he'll never do this, ever again.

It works for another whole lunar cycle. Then Karkat wakes up in the middle of the night, vision blurred by fading images of bright-red cheekbones and too-pale legs, shrugs, and once and for all – gives up on forgetting about it. It's there. It's awful. He can't do anything about it. Well.

He's used to live in shame anyway.

* * *

 **9**

\- Morning, he tells Dave who just appearified in the living room.

Dave stops dead in his track and looks at him like he's grown a second pair of horns overnight. Karkat, reflexively, pats his own head to make sure (hey, that's how it happened for Sollux, you're never safe from that kind of thing).

But Dave keeps looking, and Karkat can feel the beginning of a flush creeping on his cheeks.

\- Got a problem? he asks, as politely as he can.

Dave suddenly looks like he's been shocked awake. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles something Karkat barely understands:

\- Nothing. Morning to you, too.

Well, this is going to be embarrassing.

Karkat throws a glance across the room, but no, no one's around. It's probably still a bit early, and everyone's asleep.

Dave comes back to the table with a cup of coffee. He still doesn't meet his eyes, and Karkat is growing worried, of course he is, but he can't just ask what the deal is, right, or does he, isn't it how relationships work, you talk to each other, stuff like this?

Hopefully Dave provides with a solution to his internal dilemma by talking first:

\- Hey. I've been wondering. About last time.

(Last time, what the fuck does last time mean, when is last time? Can he be any vaguer? Like hey, dude, you're the Knight of Time, the first thing you could do is try and be precise when you speak, Jesus –)

\- You know. You said you had tried to know more about human things. Like sex.

Oh. _That_ last time.

Well it's been a while since the whole sex debacle; maybe two lunar cycles or so, so it's no wonder Karkat didn't get it right off the bat. But still, it's surprising! He wasn't expecting this to come up at all:

\- Oh, yeah, that. Well, to be honest it's already been a while, I haven't watched anything lately, so if you're really not okay with this –

\- No, no, that's not what I was talking about. I. I wanted to apologise, because I... Might not have understood that you were, like, really different. And also, that you would have wanted. To have sex with me at some point. Hm.

Dave's words look painful to say. Karkat know he stutters when he's nervous: it must be really bad, then. He's pushing so hard, he tries so much, Karkat knows it, and he's amazed by how much strength it must have taken him to just think about all of this.

\- Well, the thing is. I. Thought I had to see how it was, for you, too. Because. It might get useful at some point, right? So I – in the end, I didn't ask Vriska, because shit, that would have been terrible. So I just. Kind of. Saw for myself.

Dave is serious, and it's a serious talk, yet he just can't help it: slowly, a grin spreads on his lips, and Dave looks twice as awkward (he's usually so composed, so suave and shit, Karkat really thinks it's funny as hell, and also maybe a tiny bit endearing).

\- Well, well, Mr Strider, I clearly remember you mocking my admittedly pathetic attempts at "interspecies communication", yet there you are, over a disgusting alchemised coffee, and saying – what? You've been watching naughty things on our part of the Internet, is that so?

\- I think the word you've used was "getting educated", he replies, _that little shit_.

But he's grinning too, and some of the awkwardness fades away as they both smile at each other, somewhat embarrassed, somewhat excited.

\- So, Karkat says slowly, what did you think?

Dave's ears go red, but he doesn't flinch:

\- You know me. Always been dreaming about the day I could finally live through a real-life hentai and get a tentacle dick up my arse in a dark backstreet alley.

\- Careful, your obvious kink is showing. And _yes_ , before you ask, I know what a hentai is, don't try to play all human with me so I'll ask you "gee, Dave, what is that strange vocabulary you're using?" You've been spending too much time with Rose.

\- Yes, clearly I've been underestimating you, you already know so much about us poor pink monkeys, how could I dream to teach you anything at all? And I don't actually have a tentacle kink, god, Karkat, who do you think I am?

\- Don't play dumb with me. Rose and you are cut from the same cloth, I could see you reading over her shoulder whenever she opened those huge pseudo-grimdark books that everyone knows are full of horroterror porn. Watching, learning. You were obviously very much into it.

\- All right, all right, you want honesty? I – I actually like the noises you trolls make. They're funny. You know, the –

He clicks his tongue in a poor imitation of a troll's chirp and Karkat snorts.

\- What, do you maybe think your weird whale sounds are better than ours?

\- Offensive much? As one of the last members of a dead species I think it's really insulting. Moaning rules. So much cooler and expressive than your dying cicada cries.

\- It's because you can't understand the finesse of the modulations, cretin. If you were a troll you'd find this totally hot and sexy, which it is.

Dave laughs again.

\- Trolls are such a mess. Cat-like eyes? Tentacle dicks? Insect-like babies? Can't you be a tiny bit constant?

\- You compare them with what you know, you big ball of dried bulgesweat. Technically we came before your earth beasts, so they copied us; we called dibs on the two sets of eyelids.

\- Hey, are all bulges that big in real life?

\- How big?

Dave raises his arm, and Karkat instinctively shivers:

\- Dude, no. That's way too big. No. No, no, no. What have you been watching?

\- Does that mean troll porn actors have this special alien Viagra that make their inner octopus go crazy? Wait, do you also have ads on the side with clickbait titles like "how to get your bulge bigger in ten easy steps?"

\- The size of your bulge depends on your blood colour, actually, it's genetically determined because given the temperature of the genetic material –

\- Gross.

\- _You're_ gross. Shut up, it's biology. The thing is, the colder the material, the lower it'll go in the slurry, so same-cast material generally meet there. And as you've probably seen, genetic material is released by the nook when put in contact with the bulge's natural fluid, so slender highblood bulges make it go out slower. Plus, they're naturally cold-blooded, and you're kind of supposed to reproduce with people your rank. Anyways, it's complicated.

\- Highbloods, they're the one with a ton of them, right?

\- Seadwellers only. We lowly landdwellers do not carry horroterrors in our pants, thank you very much.

\- Hm.

A comfortable silence falls. It's full of questions in suspension, unsaid words, which Karkat savours like the smell of oncoming rain. It's surprisingly nice, talking about... All of this, with someone that doesn't just raise their eyebrows and say "well, that's interesting" (looking at you, Rose Lalonde). But someone who actually understands. Yes. It's nice.

Then Dave speaks again:

\- Since we're already talking about this. Last time. I. You also asked. About how I got this idea of sex. Like, who taught me... Made me believe things.

Karkat feels his blood turn to ice. His answer is immediate:

\- Hey, Dave, it's okay, you know, if you don't want to talk about it, I'm not mad or anything, if you –

\- No, but. You were right. It was fucked-up, right? It's still fucked-up. Like. I've got this. Understanding of things, and I think it's. Pretty warped. By stuff that happened before. Hm.

He inhales deeply. All previous giddiness is gone. Karkat has fallen very, very silent. He understands something is playing itself out in front of him, inside of Dave, and if he speaks over him, he might not say anything ever again.

It looks terribly painful and Dave has to try a couple of times before it finally gets out:

\- Do you remember. About my bro?

Karkat bites his lips, hard, to make sure he doesn't make the tiniest sound but it's probable that his throat betrays him, once again, and Dave looks up, an unreadable expression on his face.

\- I. I've been. Thinking. About... The way he raised me. And I... Maybe, sometimes, things got... A bit ugly. Not all the time. But... Sometimes. In some occasions.

He does his best to keep silent, he does, he really does.

Yeah, he remembers Dave's bro – how could he not? – and he remembers how Dave used to praise him for his cleverness, his irony, his heroicness, too. But now that he thinks about it, Dave seems to have dropped the habit. Karkat doesn't think the subject has come up in a long time, as if Dave had tried to forget about it. Maybe he did.

His bro? What the fuck, it's basically the equivalent of a lusus, how can someone do this, how can anyone? Dave was probably just a kid, no, he _was_ a kid, no probabilities involved, and shit, to become like this it must not have happened only one time, right? Right? And what was he thinking – wasn't it important enough? Did he think Karkat wouldn't care about this? Did he think he wouldn't believe him? What the fuck, Dave? What the –

\- Why didn't you tell me before? Karkat finally snaps, unable to hold it in any longer.

Dave suddenly looks terribly angry and Karkat knows he's made a mistake:

\- I'm _sorry_ , he spits, it's kind of hard to make it come up in a casual conversation. Hey Karkat! Nice morning, isn't it? Did I ever tell you about that time my brother raped me in the bathr...

He doesn't finish the sentence. His voice dies out, and his eyes are wide, wide open – much like his, probably, and they both stare in horror at each other, mouths slightly open, unable to speak, nor move.

Dave is not a child anymore but he's young, they're both young, it should not have happened, and Karkat is at a loss for words, thoughts, everything.

What are you even supposed to _say_ in that situation?

Eventually, he's the first one to move. He gets up of his chair and goes up to Dave, which is still looking in front of him, immobile and silent. His hand is wrapped around the fabric of his shirt. His breathing makes no sound. Karkat notices all of this and doesn't know what to do.

\- Hey, he says softly.

His voice sounds strange. As if he shouldn't have raised it at all.

\- I don't... Really know what to say. I...

\- It's okay, Dave murmurs.

He still hasn't moved one inch. Karkat raises his hand then doubts himself:

\- Is it – is it okay? If I touch you?

Dave nods, and leaves a place for him on his chair. They sit side by side. Karkat puts his hand on Dave's: it's cold, yet he can feel the blood pumping through his veins, the skin rising almost imperceptibly with every beat his heart takes.

\- Hey, he repeats.

His throat closes up, and he has to make a specific clicking sound so he can speak again.

\- I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said this.

\- It's okay.

\- It must have been... Really hard. Not only living it, but also, talking about it. If that mean anything, I think... It think you're kind of brave.

Dave's lips curl into a brief, faint smile.

\- And, adds Karkat (bloodpusher beating so fast it's hard to breathe), I... Well, I know it's going to sound really fucking stupid, as in downright comical, so you have the right to get mad. But, yeah. It's... It's going to be okay. Like, I know it's hard to believe and you're probably not feeling that good at the moment but I swear I'll help you be okay – if you want to, of course, I mean, there are many people here that would like to help you, like Rose, and all your friends, so you don't have to chose a pitiful fuckface like me but if you ever did, I'll try, so yeah –

Dave's shoulders slump. Karkat holds his hand tighter and speaks faster, a bit panicked:

\- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, fuck, I didn't mean to do anything wrong, I swear, I was just saying that you've already done so much and it's probably better than before, I mean I hope it is, and it's going to be better, someday, probably, shit Dave I'm so sorry I –

\- Oh my god, Karkat, _shut up_.

He's said that through gritted teeth, head low. The hand that is not under Karkat's is gripping the chair's seat so hard the joints of his fingers are bone-white. He's a kid, Karkat repeats in his head, he's a kid, seven and a half perigees, both of them and he doesn't know what kids say when they learn something like this.

Something pushes him to ask:

\- Are we –are we not friends anymore because of stuff I've said?

It makes Dave laugh, very shortly, once again through closed teeth.

\- Karkat. What do you think.

\- Well, I don't really know.

\- Of course. Of fucking course we're still friends.

\- Oh. Right.

Then Dave starts to cry. Pitiful, heavy sobs that he desperately tries to repress, hiccups shaking his chest. He grinds his teeth and shakes his head, and it's useless: absurdly huge tears fall down his cheeks, childlike, when he's not so young anymore, when he should still be.

It breaks Karkat's heart so all he can do is shoosh him as gently as he can, and tell him "it'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll get better, we'll make it better, you'll be better, you already are".

" _I'm just doing what he's done for me"_ , he tells himself. _"I was fucked-up and paranoid and bitter and I got better. I want to help, too, now. I truly do."_

Dave doesn't cry for long, though, he's not that kind of person. The game has shaped him, changed him; it made them grow up fast, now they're too busy to cry. Too strong: they've seen too much. Yes, Karkat is right: they're young. But they're also gods and universe creators and survivors, and they're proud, and stupid, and teenagers too. So Dave doesn't cry for long.

However, when he is done, he holds Karkat's hand in return. His palms are sweaty: Karkat couldn't give less of a fuck.

\- Thanks, Dave says.

His voice is a bit raspy. Karkat nods.

\- Anytime.

\- Did you really mean it?

\- What?

\- That it'll get better. Do you really think it will?

They're lost in the middle of space, stranded on a lonely meteor travelling at the speed of light. They're discovering sex and romance and getting over traumas and drawing dicks on Rose's books. Karkat nods again:

\- Yeah, of course. How could it get any worse anyway?

* * *

 **5**

He keeps on feeling horrible (and secretly watching videos, some of them actually being... Really nice, once you're used to the stuff) until the day Rose comes up to him and asks him about troll anatomy because she wants to know what to do with Kanaya.

It's like a fucking epiphany.

" _This part of hell is not empty"_ , Karkat thinks looking at Rose's unwillingly crimson face – why didn't he think about it before, of course, Kanaya and Rose, Vriska and Rose, he should have known he wasn't alone!

And a good great part of the shame he was carrying on his shoulders straight-up _vanishes_.

\- So what – you think trolls are attractive?

Rose shrugs a bit:

\- Well, it appears that even the most exotic body can become quite appealing when you've seen them enough. A bit like Stockholm syndrome, I guess, only with sex. And less vaguely psychologically damaging. Plus, alien life forms... There's something really fascinating about thinking you'll be the first one to ever make that kind of third-type encounter. Don't you think?

Karkat considers the thought for one or two seconds – yeah. Yeah, there is.

He straightens his back, crosses his arms, and exhales deeply. It feels nice, suddenly, to be normal.

\- Go for the grub scars, he tells her.

Rose's eyes gleam, and she too crosses her arms on her chest:

\- I'm all ears.

* * *

 **11**

Dave's words go straight to his heart, and he feels his whole face heat up like he's six again. Karkat has to lower his eyes for a second – get a grip, for god's sake! – and clears his throat tentatively.

\- Um, I, wow. Well I, I wasn't expecting it.

\- Yeah, I can see that. Do you want me to use a trigger warning next time? Hashtag sex mention, hashtag xenobiology, hashtag lewd proposals, wow, now that's the kind of romantic talk I like to hear.

\- Don't you dare acting this smug, Strider, I swear to whatever awful and sexually deviant deity is watching over us right now you'll end up regretting it.

Dave raises his eyebrows suggestively and Karkat pushes him away, _urgh_ , what a fucking prat, he just can't believe the nerve of the guy; and then comes back close, for very obvious reasons.

(Dave really does smell nice. He always has, but Karkat can't help noticing. He knows by now humans do not emit pheromones the way trolls do; it doesn't matter, he thinks it's funny; Dave smells like salt soap, with the thickness of a dust cloud, and it's one of the nicest things Karkat knows.)

They both look at each other. Dave has dropped his shades. It's hard for Karkat to actually form a coherent thought, and he lets himself drown in warm fear and sour excitement – and then, suddenly, a pang of doubt goes through his head, turning everything to moon ice. Space cold.

\- Wait, he can't help saying.

Dave had already his eyes half-closed. He looks a bit annoyed that he has to re-open them properly. Nevertheless, Karkat has to ask:

\- Are you really okay with this? I mean, _really_ okay. Because if you're not, if you're just doing it to be nice, I appreciate the idea but I'd rather – what I mean is, I know we've talked about this a bit, so I just want to make sure, I guess, that you're –

He's cut short by a flick on his nose.

\- Karkat. Karkat, Karkat. Listen to me.

\- I am listening, he says, eyes rived on Dave's fingers, a couple centimetres only from his nose.

\- Good. Because I'm going to talk.

\- All right. Talk, then.

\- Okay. Well. I'm glad you're concerned, of course. And it feels nice. But I wasn't... Asking just to be nice with you. I'm asking because. Things have changed. And things have to change again, right? I have to... Unlearn some stuff. Learn some other stuff again. Properly. You see?

He shuffles on his seat, maybe the tiniest bit uncomfortable:

\- So yeah, I guess the point is, it feels. Okay. Now, to want and try.

\- You want to try? Karkat repeats.

\- I. Yes. I want to try. And I want, period.

He suddenly lets a nervous laugh out:

\- Not gonna lie though, it's kind of weird.

\- Weird as in... Bad? Or scary?

Dave takes some time to think about it, slowly lowers his hand.

\- As in unknown, he answers thoughtfully (sincerely). So yeah. A bit scary. But with you – it's going to sound super cheesy, but keep your snide remarks for yourself. It's just that, with you, I guess that'd end up being pretty cool.

Karkat finds himself smiling, uncontrollably, exactly like the first time Dave and he kissed; as stupidly as he can, as mindlessly, because he's moved, and terrified and hopeful, it makes his stomach turn into jelly, shaken by hot waves of sparkling fear.

There's another fleeting moment of awkwardness, both of them close enough to hold each other, not knowing why they're not doing it already:

\- So, finally says Karkat (is his voice shaking? Really, dude? Don't you think it'd be time to grow a pair of horns and at least seem confident?), what do we – hmm, how do we, start?

\- Hm. How about you kiss me?

But their lips are already meeting before the sentence is over, and Dave's last words are pleasantly muffled by Karkat's mouth, dying lazily on his teeth; he sighs, and Karkat thinks he's going to explode, or melt, he doesn't really know.

The floor is hard, but Dave's soft, his hands rummaging through his hair as if he was digging for lost treasures. Eyes closed, Karkat feels his fingers brush against his ears, his horns, his nape. His nails keep getting caught in knots, it's a bit painful, it makes him think of road bumps (unknown dangers in unknown lands, it's worth it, worth it all).

He can feel Dave smiling on his lips. He stops for a second:

\- What?

\- Cicada cries, he breathes against his cheek.

It takes a couple of seconds of embarrassing fumbling, but Dave finally manages to put one of his hands on Karkat's chest, under his shirt (oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck) and they both feel the vibrations inside their bones. If it wasn't for Dave Strider currently lying under him (fuck, fuck it's really happening this time, it really is), Karkat would gladly welcome death.

\- I told you, he tries to justify himself, I can't really control it, trolls are naturally aggressive, they need signs to –

\- Nah. Told you before. I like it. It's – it's very you, you know? Insectoid purrs and all that. It's – wait, let me...

They both move a bit, trying to get a better position on the cold metal floor (wouldn't Dave like it better elsewhere?). Dave's skin is getting redder by the second, warmer too, and he tentatively brushes against the – fuck, _ah_ , fuck, well – that was the most obscene noise Karkat has ever made in public in his entire life, is he already this turned-on?

\- Wow, Dave says softly, awe-eyed. Wow, so it's true. Wow. I. I'm.

\- Yeah, Karkat answers, kind of breathlessly (Dave keeps doing it, it feels so nice, so nice holy shit, does he even know how _red_ touching someone's scars is? Does he have any idea?), you're doing it, good job, well-learnt.

A shit-eating grin spreads on Dave face, suddenly, and Karkat has just enough time to understand he's made a mistake:

\- Don't say it Strider don't you dare say it –

\- Karkat. Karkat, my bro, my dude. It's the perfect occasion. Come on. Say it with me. We're doing this, man...

Karkat kisses him to swallow his voice, and Dave happily complies, but he can feel him silently mouthing the final words against his tongue – that godawful trashfumbling bulgeeater, Karkat is going to kill him, it's not a time to _meme_ , not with his hands on his torso and drool on his chin, no.

His bulge is gently coming to life, warmth spreading between his legs where Dave's knee currently lies. Involuntarily (instinctively), Karkat rubs against it and wow, it feels so good, it feels so good (fuck, it was definitely a creepy move, did Dave notice, will he think it's weird?)

\- 'T's warm, Dave mumbles.

So he did notice. Please, Demoness, come and take him, he's ready.

\- Yeah, he admits. Yeah, it is, fuck, I'm sorry –

\- No, no, you should – I've seen – it's so warm, it's just, so warm. You can – you can...

He doesn't finish his sentence, but Karkat's ears are boiling, as well as his cheeks, and he can feel Dave moving around and the pressure on his arse gets more intense.

Fuck, it feels so good, it is so good, and they're not even naked. Karkat doesn't want to be a fucking loser and come in his pants before anything actually happens. He doesn't want to fuck this up. So, as much as it costs him, he momentarily stops (tries to) acting like a meowbeast in heat and says:

\- Dave – shouldn't we, Dave –

He tugs at the fabric of his shirt, already damp, which makes his heart stutter. Dave understands, nods, raises his hands above his head so Karkat can finally pull that stupid thing off.

Getting Dave undressed is weird, messy and really embarrassing (his arm gets stuck in his sleeve for a while; Karkat has to retain himself from laughing hysterically, it's so awkward), but it doesn't take very long.

Dave's chest is the same as always, white soft trail of hair on brown skin, freckles and scars and weird birth hole on the stomach and thick dusty smell. Sweat covers the skin of his shoulders. He's so pretty. So alien. So hot.

His heart is beating so fast, he's going to puke.

He's not yet too lost in his fantasies, though, that he can't see Dave gulps, too-wide eyes looking at him, through him. Karkat immediately moves back, flooded by panic:

\- Is it okay? Am I doing okay?

\- Yeah, answers Dave after a while. Yeah, it's okay.

\- Is there – hey... Is there anything I, I shouldn't do? Anything that would make you, remember or...

He hates himself for talking about this, bringing down the heavy shadow over them in a space it should not belong to, yet he'd hate himself even more if he did something wrong with Dave, and he asks, he has to.

Dave bites his lips. His words are almost incomprehensible now, too low, too rash:

\- Maybe – maybe, here, please, wait a sec –

Shakily, almost in a hurry, he takes his hand and places it on his chest, on the curve of his ribcage. Dave opens his mouth and no word comes out. Karkat tries to make sentences out of what his eyes tell him:

\- Touch you? Don't – don't let go? Is that what you want?

Dave nods violently. Karkat is suddenly both terrified (he can't fuck this up) and painfully aroused (he can't fuck this up).

\- I won't, he tells him, I won't let go, I –

He leans in to kiss him, and Dave does the same, mouth wide open, _god_ , Karkat's never seen him like this, too-bright lips and shaky arms, almost desperate, almost like a starved beast, his tongue running on his teeth like he doesn't care, and he doesn't probably, he doesn't.

All that Karkat's ever watched and read is out of his reach; he's never felt this lost, this blatantly ignorant. He runs his hands on Dave's chest, muscles sticky with sweat under his palms, comes across what humans have instead of grub scars – fuck, he can't remember the word, what was it, what was it – but he does what he think he's got to do and when he touches it, Dave _jerks_.

\- It's okay, he tells him right away. It's – I, I –

\- Is it nice? Tell me if I do anything – ah – anything wrong at all.

\- Hm. Hm. I, yes. Yes. Yes. It's nice. Yes.

He said "yes" – he looks like "yes", so Karkat keeps going, and he can feel Dave shift under him, his leg definitely rubbing against his nook like he knows what he's doing – and it hits the right spot about one time out of five and it's already so much Karkat wants to cry out.

Fuck. His nook feels so empty. He's probably dripping like crazy on Dave's knee by now and he wants him as much as he wants to do things to him, whatever things, all the things.

\- Fuck, Dave, is there anything – anything at all, anything that you'd want, anything I could do?

Dave's mouth is glistening, good and wet, very red:

\- I, I can't – fuck, I can't, I don't, I, I –

He can't speak, words fail him. Karkat feels him shiver and frown – he doesn't know how to say he likes things, _oh_ , and the pity, he's never felt it this deep, filling his bones, his veins, his head:

\- Show me, he says (prays). Don't speak, don't – show me, okay? I'll try. Show me.

Dave's limbs are shaking hard now, full of emotions he can't express. Once again with frustrated precipitation he takes Karkat's left hand in his and puts it in the inside of his thighs, where muscle meets flesh.

Karkat instantly feels the pressure under his fingers and freezes.

Three almost unrelated thoughts cross his mind at the same moment – " _I've never been this wet in my entire lifespan"_ ; _"so_ that's _how hard it actually is"_ ; _"I want this thing inside of me"_.

\- Fuck, that's hot, is all that he manages to make out of these.

His bulge is fully unsheathed now, trashing around in his pants, running the fabric. It's a lost cause. He's never going to last long enough to get him to fuck him. Hell, he's never going to last long enough to fuck him either.

But at least if he can hold his dick in his hand and finally – finally, fuck, finally see everything he's ever wanted to see Dave do – maybe, for a first time, that'd be enough.

Karkat swallows back his fear and pull the waistband of Dave's trousers down.

* * *

 **7**

They just can't keep playing dumb.

Karkat is painfully aware of how obvious he's been lately concerning Dave. He's been letting his guard down, allowed himself to do things, throw hints, send signs, all on purpose. There's no way Dave hasn't at least the faintest idea of what is happening.

He's been talking to Rose a lot, recently. Karkat, too, has been talking to Rose. It's not like she didn't know, anyways; apparently it was "bound to happen" or some strange Light shit – although to be honest he feels like she overplays the omniscient Seer thing sometimes. She must think it's so cool. What a nerd.

She keeps telling him to "go talk to him". Well thank you, Rose, for your spectacular advice, your chumhandle didn't lie, you truly are the greatest most tentacular therapist of them all – _oh wait_ , no you're not.

But the more Karkat thinks about it, the more obvious it gets: at one point, they _will_ have to talk about it.

Karkat is not stupid, all right? He's not blind either, and neither is Dave. Oblivious mutual pining is only a thing in fiction: when you like someone, you keep trying to see signs in their behaviour that will say "yes, I'm also very attracted to you, please make out with me".

Well, it so happens that Karkat sees these signs everywhere. Dave tentatively hugging him when they watch movies; awkward semi-hand holding; sitting closer than before; embarrassed glances across the room; watching, listening, trying to talk and ending up not saying anything.

Karkat knows that it wouldn't have happened before. It never did. Dave wouldn't do this if he didn't have a good reason to do so, and it's just so huge, so evident, it can't mean anything else, right?

Is that flirting? No, it's not even flirting, because it looks like they're both trying very hard not to acknowledge the other's moves. Flirting requires recognition. What they're doing right now is called being fucking stupid. Also probably sucking at relationships.

"Okay", had said Rose, "if you're so frustrated about what's happening between him and you, why don't you confront him about it?"

That's where it gets complicated. Because okay, it's obvious. And every time Dave just so happens to lean towards him and get his head on his shoulder in an extremely sappy and clearly romantic fashion, Karkat's bloodpusher summersaults into his mouth. So, why don't they just talk to each other, kiss, and happily resolve that conflict?

He doesn't fucking have a clue.

Maybe Karkat is misinterpreting everything? Pity does this to you, makes you desperate, blind to the truth, he knows that by now. Maybe Dave is just trying to be friendly? And his definition of friendship includes looking at his lips way too much. Well, he did say he was raised in relative loneliness, maybe he doesn't really know that it's Not Something You Do Between Strictly Platonic Bros. Hmm.

Okay – worst case scenario, it's a very convoluted and complex joke which goal is to make fun of him and his (very poorly hidden) feelings for the guy. Which would mean Dave Strider is a jerk, which he's not. Or if he is, then he's really good at faking niceness.

Maybe that's not the worst case scenario. Losing whatever relationship they have at the moment would affect him more. Karkat really doesn't want to go to Dave, ask him "hey, word on the street is you like grey mutant aliens with a fuckton of neuroses and poor relationship skills", and be met with a wall of polite yet irremediable confusion, like no Karkat, I don't, what are you talking about?

Yeah. That'd definitely make things weird. Well, weirder than the hand holding. Also the going around half-naked. Jesus, if that's Dave Strider's idea of flirting, then he's got the finesse of a goddamn rock. Terezi probably told him to do so and he must have said "that sucks" but internally thought it was such a Great Idea. That idiot.

Not that Karkat is actually better than him or anything. They're just really bad, the both of them.

(And he has to admit, getting to sit next to Dave when he doesn't have trousers on is actually... Really nice. Not that he's been looking and later jerking off to the image or anything. Sheesh. What are you talking about.)

Yet, they keep on doing this and pretending nothing's wrong, until one fateful day – and everything that had been waiting, suspended in time and darkness, comes crashing down.

It happens in the middle of the lab they're turned into a kitchen. Really, only Karkat and Kanaya go in there to make actual, non-alchemised food. The others do not really care about "eating healthy" and "not being sick". Both Kanaya and Karkat find cooking relaxing – it's something to do when you're bored, it's useful, it's distracting, they use those moments to chat and gossip and bicker. It's cool. Karkat likes it.

So really it comes as a surprise when he enters the room and doesn't find Kanaya in there, but Dave Strider, an extremely determined (if not a little stiff) expression on his face.

They stare at each other for a full minute at least.

\- What are you –

\- I wanted to –

They both stop. It's so awkward it hurts.

\- Okay, Karkat says, face burning; you start.

\- No, you.

\- No, _you_. I was going to ask you what you were doing here. That's – that's probably what you were going to say, weren't you?

\- Oh. Yeah. Um. Well. I just wanted to have a chat.

The determination on his face falters, and he clears his throat. Holy fuck, Karkat has never seen him this nervous.

("He's going to say it!" screams his heart whilst jumping in his chest. "He's going to say it! He is!"

"Kindly shut the fuck up", answers his brain, and wow, wow, calm down in there, at least let the man speak before you decide on which emotion adopt?)

\- Really, it's no big deal. Just, don't panic, okay? Even though I know asking you not to panic is basically asking the Earth to stop moving for once, like dude, what's with all the spinning, can't you chill a little, take a break, let us poor humans breathe for a while? Which is funny, because it, well it doesn't exist anymore, the Earth I mean, so that's done. Anyway. The point is, on a separate, distant timeline in the tree of possibilities, maybe there's an alternate version of you that always magically and naturally knows how to control his temper – who knows? Well, I don't, so I just do whatever I feel is right, and I'm asking you, don't panic. All right?

No. It's not all right. Nothing is right. Honestly, Dave Strider. How is that _not_ supposed to make him panic.

Dave must take his two seconds of stunned silence for a sign that he can keep talking, because he does:

\- Really, it's not much. Not super important. I don't even know how to start talking because it's such a small thing.

\- What, he starts calmly, the _fuck_ are you even talking about.

He's so calm about it. The calmest. The most calm. Truly he is.

Dave, on the other hand, is in a continuous process of simultaneously hunching his shoulders and sinking his hands into his pockets, as Karkat's bloodpusher reaches peaks of activity, beating faster than it ever has.

\- Hm. Well, as I said before, it's really not a big deal, because we're both mature young males and we'll know how to handle the situation. If a situation occurs. Hm. Yes, well, it's so unimportant, it's Rose who talked me through, told me to come here to find you. Silly old Rose, uh? Always pushing people to go and talk. About whatever situation they're in.

\- You're rambling, Karkat says without even really noticing.

The sound of his own blood in his ears is so loud, what the fuck?

\- Yeah. I kind of am.

He laughs, then inhales very loudly:

\- Ah – fuck, I'm such an arsehole, aren't I?

\- What? Karkat says, vaguely confused.

\- It's just – okay. I. I kind of have to say it, now. Just. Don't get mad. Please, don't get mad. Tell me you won't.

\- I won't.

\- Okay. Okay. Good. Thanks.

\- You can talk now.

\- Yes. Well, um. You. I. It's going to sound – fuck. Hm. Okay, we – how do I even begin? We... We've spent a lot of time together lately and it's been. Really nice. You're... You're actually a lot cooler than I first thought. And fun to be around. And kinda smart, and nice, and. A great person overall, and. I feel like you've really helped me kind of grow, in a way? I never thought it'd be this, um, this... Much. So, what I want to say, is. Fuck, I'm pathetic. You – you probably know by now. Um. I.

It really is crashing down.

Planets colliding, stars exploding and it's not as terrible as Karkat feared: it's actually pretty much the opposite. It's golden light spilling everywhere, warm in his chest, between his teeth; it's a nascent sun, it's enormous, it makes him want to faint, makes him want to giggle excitedly, dance a bit, move his hands and scream.

Karkat is smiling, god, he's smiling so hard, he can't help it.

\- I like you, he says before Dave even has time to look up.

Their eyes meet.

It's the warmest Karkat has ever felt. The fullest too.

\- Oh, answers Dave. That's cool.

There's a moment of silence before he says:

\- I like you too.

He blurts it out so fast, and his eyes widen a bit, like he's surprised he even managed to spell it out. Softly, almost in awe, he repeats:

\- I like you. I like you.

\- I like you, Karkat answers.

\- I like you.

\- I like you!

\- Yeah! Me too! I like you!

\- Fuck – Dave! Guess what!

\- What?

\- I like you!

An ugly fit of laughter takes them both, and Dave snorts, running his hands through his hair in relief like he's won first prize in some cosmic competition:

\- You're the worst – you big, gigantic dickhead – oh man, I think I'm going to have to sit, how ridiculous is that? I didn't even know I could do this. I didn't even know I could – say it, feel this, fuck, Karkat! Karkat, take a wild guess. Take a wild fucking guess.

\- I don't know, Dave, what?

\- I like you! he yells, almost hysterical, and then laughs again, and Karkat laughs too, because they're both standing in this dirty dark kitchen, hands balled in fists by their sides, two meters away from each other, so full of everything they feel like it's going to spill on the floor.

Someone knocks heavily on the wall:

\- Can the both of you just _shut the fuck up_! screams Vriska through the door.

\- How about maybe _you_ shut the fuck up! Dave screams back.

Karkat's ability to form words has mysteriously disappeared, and he knows that if he was to try and open his mouth, the only thing that would come out would be a prolonged hoot of victory. So he keeps on grinning, laughing, and so does Dave, and they look at each other like misbehaving wrigglers with smiles so large Karkat's cheeks hurt.

Dave is red, breathless and a little sweaty. His teeth are very white. Karkat's never seen him like this, no, and he really –

wants to kiss him

human, loser, smiling Dave Strider.

And he's already moving –

They meet each other in the middle.

Karkat had never thought it'd be this warm.

He has his hands on Dave's shoulders, moves them to touch his face, feel the bones of his jaw under his fingers and thinks – wow.

It really is warm.

Dave's lips are wet; Karkat loves how close they're standing, chest to chest; it's not at all like he thought it'd be, it's both not enough (he thought it'd be... Fuller, in some weird way, like it'd been everywhere and he'd have _more_ of Dave's mouth on his own) and almost too much (it feels so much nicer than he could have thought, so much nicer, yeah; he likes how slow it has to be to move with Dave's lips, follow his flow, get one of their own.)

Their teeth clash – they both don't really know how to proceed, forwards, backwards, when to open their lips? They're not in synch at all. And they both move back a bit. Karkat keeps his eyes closed. Dave's shades are in the way – he hears him put them away.

They kiss again. It's still as good. It's still as weird. Kissing is so hard. He's probably lousy at it.

Dave opens his mouth and Karkat instinctively follows the movement and _ah_ – he feels Dave shiver, they both do, fuck, it feels so nice when it goes right – then they fumble again, open lips against closed ones, teeth grazing teeth, bloods running side by side.

Once again they break the kiss, both a bit breathless – fuck, no one told him it'd be so difficult, like walking in the dark, venturing into vast plains, map-less, direction-less – will they kiss again, when will they? Karkat opens his eyes. Dave's lips are swollen, they shine, his eyes are half-closed, they shine, too.

So close, so close. It's probably terrible except that it doesn't feel like terrible, it feels like right. It feels like overheating, like his head is floating above his neck, like he sees and feels and doesn't understand, yet doesn't mind.

He feels like smiling. He does, and so does Dave.

All of the sudden, Karkat kind of understands the appeal in foreign lands' calls – thrill of discovery – howl of the unknown – first one to see, first one to hear – yes. If that's what travelling is all about, Karkat will gladly become an explorer – he'll fall and map and learn, and eventually, he'll discover, and find, and know.

Yes. He understands.

* * *

 **2**

Karkat is pissed off. How could he not? He has all the reasons to be pissed off. All of them.

Maybe the worst of them is knowing about the previous reasons. Their simple existence is making him sick. And frustrated. And turned-on.

Aaaand that's exactly _why_ he's got aproblem.

He throws another glance behind him, but the living-room is definitely empty. Where is everyone anyway? Bah, it doesn't matter. It's very convenient, that's all Karkat needed.

Once again, he makes sure his chair effectively hides what he's doing if anyone was to barge in, before he turns back to the computer, slightly frowning. He's hiding (hiding? No, no fucking way, Karkat Vantas doesn't hide, he's not in the middle of the way, that's all) – so, he's comfortably installed in the most remote corner of the room, laptop on his thighs, chin in his hand, and thinking hard.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Karkat is doing research.

Of course the Earth blew up ages ago, so whatever technology the humans had has disappeared with it, and furthermore they're floating in the middle of paradox space, so he wouldn't have access to their network. But he's pretty sure he's heard Sollux mentioning he had made a copy of the humans' entire internet when it was just the twelve of them trolls, maybe because he thought it'd come in handy, or that it was a fun thing to do (fucking nerd, that guy). So if it's still on their own network – he still has access to all that they had written on Internet, old memos and everything –, if the data is still accessible, then maybe...

Karkat finally reaches the older files in the list. He looks for the biggest one and immediately finds it – fuck, Captor, when did you have the time to download this crap? It's absurdly _huge_. Didn't you have better things to do, like kissing your pretty fish princess or talking to your best completely platonic bro before you disappeared into nothingness?

Ah, great, now Karkat feels depressed thinking about his dead friends. He really should get therapy.

He forces himself to focus on the task at hand and clicks the file. Either his computer is fucking Troll Dwayne Johnson, or the humans' biggest source of data is actually not as big as they bragged about, because it opens fairly quickly, and holy shit, that's a LOT of subfiles. How is he even going to find anything in there?

Well, that's research for you, Karkat tells himself, barely indulging himself in drama (he has the right to do so, okay, remember, he's pissed off and all of this?)

He spends some time wondering where he wants to start. Something tells him to cut off the chase and get straight to the point – but even trying to imagine what it could be like is making him overheat, so he hastily pushes the thought away and decides to pick something clean, first, something rational, detached. Like an encyclopaedia, yeah, books are the bomb. Great idea, Vantas. High-five.

So it appears, humans actually have very extended online culture manuals. Karkat, after maybe half an hour of fumbling, finally finds one that doesn't seem too hard to use, and it launches properly when he clicks on the subfile, so he guesses there's no reason to back up now.

Okay. Now, the wording. Hm.

Fuck. He feels like the universe's worst creep, which it probably not very far from the truth given their situation. It doesn't change a thing, though.

He opts for something scholarly, very basic (it's safer this way) and types in "human body". He is immediately met with at least half a hundred different sub-categories. Everything from their common chemical balance to their skeletal structure is there, neatly translated in a splendid Alternian font. Usually, Karkat would be vibrating in delight (because hey, biology is super interesting!) and he'd dive into the list of different genetic diseases humans suffer(ed) from. However, today's special. Plus now that he knows that it's here, he can always come back to it later. Yeah. He shouldn't get distracted. He shouldn't let himself get distracted.

He takes a deep breath, then scrolls until he finds the article labelled "genitalia and reproductive organs". Come on, man. Do it for science.

He clicks on the link.

For the love of all that's sacred what the fuck are _those_.

Karkat blinks furiously and looks away from the screen, his brain desperately trying to process what he's just seen.

Well. That was a spectacular fail. Fuck, he really wasn't expecting pictures.

But that's okay, he's okay, that's what he's here for, right? What should he do, now? Go away? He'd come back. Karkat is just that curious. Shit, that's a very... Pure word. If he wanted to describe himself more accurately, he'd have said something like "pathetic" or "deranged" or "way too much into alien sex." But, well. That's not the point. Plus, he can't hang around for long, can he? If someone else came, he'd be done for. He has to be quick, get this over with, and never speak about it again.

Yeah. Sounds nice. He can do this.

After a moment of intense mental preparation, Karkat slowly turns back to face the screen.

Hm. Okay. Well. Maybe it's not as terrible as he first thought. This right here – it kind of looks like a bulge, if bulges were like tiny pink mutant arms with globes at the base (?) and fur on the top (once again: _?_ ). That thing here would be a... Nook, albeit a very sick one. There again, fur crotch. That's so freaking useless.

Oh, okay, that he knows, troll girls have these to protect their ribcage in fights – but humans' got those weird round things (nipples? That's a dumb name. Also, why is everything so pink and red? Humans really have no sense of shame) that he's seen on Dave's chest, too. So both girls and boys have those nipple things? Interesting. Are they linked to their reproductive organs in any way?

Karkat keeps on reading – apparently female' shame globes are used to feed their babies (wow, now that is definitely gross, what do they even eat, blood, like tiny monkey leeches? Oh, no, okay, he should have read a bit further, so women produce this... Nutrition liquid so their toothless babies can feed without fighting for survival. Kind of like moobeasts. Now that he thinks about it, he's never seen John feed on a female when he was a kid. He must have found another way to survive. _Urgh_ , he's so strong when he wants to, yet decides to be a fucking blubbering idiot most of the time, it makes Karkat's blood boil.)

But okay, it makes sense now, if females' shame globes are related to nutrition, it's no wonder they keep it hidden to make sure they're safe from attacks. Unlike female trolls, Rose doesn't seem very keen on baring her chest whenever there's a confrontation. Probably because it's super important. Yeah. Karkat gets it. Good. He's totally not grossed out. Nothing wrong about this. Let's focus on something else now.

But the more he reads, the more confused Karkat gets. He's not even disgusted by now, simply... Perplexed.

It's just so different. Humans do not share the same genitalia, unlike trolls; females get this weird-looking nook called a vagina, when males have this... Non-retractable bulge that acts like a blood sponge and gets bigger with arousal. Hmm. So in the end, it's a bit like wild animals they had on Alternia. Females carry the babies around for a while in an internal pouch and give birth in pain and blood, screaming and sweating, and then go on with their lives like nothing happened.

(Humans can do this? _Rose_ could possibly do this? His respect for her definitely increases; his slight fear of her does too, because he's not going to lie... That's pretty wild.)

But wait – fuck, so it means humans use each others as _pails_? Oh fuck, fuck, oh no, that's weird, that's perverse, that's super fucked-up in the very very hot sense, fuck – he gets a fleeting image of Dave Strider, legs covered in bright red material – oh fuck, Karkat, get a grip, move on, move on!

He forces himself to snap out of it and just keep going.

There are more things about the internal structure of their reproductive organs and their hormonal impact on the individual's brain (everything happens inside, it's so wonderfully complicated, gorgeously organised, and Karkat forgets for a second he's talking about very real persons he's having odd dreams about – biology is so cool, dude, so fucking radical), but eventually he's read everything he needed to read at the moment.

He lets a sigh of relief out when he finally exits the window and the black wallpaper of his desktop greets him, familiar, innocent enough.

Well, that's done, now.

He has to be honest – it wasn't as terrible as he thought it'd be. Actually, it shed light on a lot of aspects of the human culture Karkat had troubles understanding – the unnecessary over-gendering of clothing and interests, the seemingly superior male sex (when really Karkat isn't sure it shouldn't be the other way around, and not because he lives in a matriarchal society or anything), Dave and John's refusal of "homosexual" relationships (they probably think it's not natural, since they can't penetrate nookless men and perpetuate their species). Yes. That was actually useful. He definitely feels enlightened. Complete, even. His curiosity has been fully satisfied. He doesn't want to know anything else. Nope.

So if his brain could now stop inventing crazy xeno-sexual scenarios when he's just trying to rest peacefully in his room, that'd be perfect.

* * *

 **3**

Karkat wakes up one morning and wonders – okay, male-female sexuality, he's got an idea of how it could work (once again, some animals did the same on Alternia), but given what John and Dave told him, there were same-sex relationships in their pathetic human world, both male and female; so, how did _they_ actually do it?

Not that he's interested in pursuing a relationship with any human ever, of course (of course!). His inquisitiveness is only motivated by a pure and noble thirst for knowledge.

Yeah. Totally. Right.

Right.

* * *

 **12**

\- Dude, he says softly (and he sees Dave's eyes shine), that's so nice.

He feels the rumbles of his laughter in his chest – he's still touching him, as he said he wanted, his skin sticky on his own, heartbeat like a strong wave under his fingertips (not letting go, not leaving him alone, they're both doing this, both of them).

\- Thanks. I grew it myself. So glad you like it.

\- I do. It looks... Neat.

\- _Neat_ , Dave repeats snickering.

But then there's a hitch in his breath, and he stops talking.

Karkat's hand brushes against Dave's hair (it's not as soft as his head hair, but still as pale), the skin of his dick, very careful not to hurt him with his claws (he hasn't sharpened them in a long time, it should be okay, right?)

Much to his surprise, the skin's very soft, and he feels the blood hard pumping under the thin surface – it makes him think of a small animal, almost vulnerable, profoundly _alive_ , which is in a way not so different from what bulges are.

The tip is already leaking with genetic fluid. Karkat, very slowly, runs his thumb on the surface. Doubt is still there in his mind, asking questions like "am I taking it too slow?" or "is it awkward?" or "am I a pathetic failure and it this all a dream because I can't have nice things?" – but he feels Dave's legs twitch, and he's biting into his lower lip as to muffle himself – oh, wow... Wow.

His own bulge is pleading for release – Karkat does his best to ignore it, because there's so much better to do right now. He knows this, all right, human male genitals do not produce enough fluid to be handled properly. He licks his palm – fuck, what if humans are allergic to the stuff? The thought makes him snicker, but really, he doesn't care much right now – and tries to do what he's seen the men do on the videos, his palm on the warm length of his sex.

In the end, it's like masturbating, right? Except it's on somebody else. So really not like masturbating. Fuck, he hopes he can do this right.

Dave's knee suddenly jerks – Karkat feels the slight pain of the kick in his thigh, and he steadies himself a bit, forces himself not to shake.

He slightly increases the pressure of his fingers on Dave's dick and he hears him _gasp_.

He looks up. Heat immediately pools up in his gut – a drop of sweat runs on Dave's throat and he tries to close his mouth, but Karkat carefully moves again and Dave lets a hiss out, a small cry, and his hips buck into Karkat's hand – affection hungry, contact starved.

That's so damn hot.

\- You look so nice, Karkat hears himself say.

It's right, it's right, Dave looks fucking gorgeous, pity red blood pooling on his face, mouth open on his useless tongue – Karkat pumps a tiny bit faster, more confident now, and oh, oh, fuck, Dave _moans_ , something that comes from the depths of his chest, loudly, unabashedly.

He can hear him trying to form words that do not make sense and Karkat drinks them all, throat so dry, losing himself in Dave's image, dark legs and dark belly, the white flutter of eyelashes on his cheeks.

\- Karkat, he hears him plead – and then it's almost like he's stuck – Karkat, Karkat, Karkat, ffff...

Fluid has been dripping on his fingers from his cock for what seems like forever now. His dick is harder than ever, and Karkat's motions are slick, fluid even; he understands as Dave's moans get progressively higher that he's so close – so close, fuck, he... He really, really wants to watch him come.

\- You're so handsome. You look so nice, Dave, you look so nice...

Dave grips the wrist of the hand that's splayed flat on his chest and his nails dig into his flesh as another whine escape his lips – his other hand comes to cover his mouth so as to muffle the noise he makes, he's so loud, he's so freaking loud – and there's still the barely understandable litany, the everlasting chant of his name (Karkat Karkat Karkat), the hottest thing Karkat has ever heard.

He wants him to do all the things to him. Wants to do all the things to him. Everything, everything with him. Make him orgasm, make him feel nice, make him feel otherworldly, keep him mouthing his name like this. It's lame – ridiculous – messy and it's better than everything he's ever dreamt of.

Karkat pumps one last time – Dave's throat constructs, let a strangled cry out, then another, longer between his fingers – and he sees him _lose himself_ as the pressure on his wrist gets more intense, white hot genetic fluid spurting out, dripping on his claws, his dick twitching in his palm – Dave's eyes are closed shut, he's squirming under him and Karkat has never seen him look so good – so blissful.

The warmth stays for a while.

Karkat licks his hand clean, like every troll do when this happens. His head feels light, a feeling close to drunkenness. Human genetic material tastes strange, but not awful (he could get used to it), and ah, fuck, he can't believe he's done this, he can't believe it.

He looks at Dave, still lying on the floor. His cock is smaller now, softer again – Karkat can't believe it.

\- I can't believe it, says Dave even so softly.

He's not looking at him, and Karkat freezes.

\- Are you okay?

\- Holy dry shit Karkat, what do you think? Fuck. You're – you're... And I'm not – not even – wasn't even physically able to tell you... Hey.

\- What?

\- Sorry to ruin the moment, could you just – move, for a second? I just want to sit properly.

Karkat immediately complies, and Dave uses his elbows to straighten himself. His legs are still open, ankles brushing against Karkat's thighs. They're close; the sweat slowly cools down, and Karkat's head still feels fuzzy, the need in his bulge gently receding, like low tide. They'll need to get clean. Dave especially (Karkat spots bright red marks on his knee and does his best not to hide himself in Sweater Town and never get out of there because god, that's so fucking awkward).

Dave blinks. His lips are swollen. Karkat suddenly notices they're still holding hands – Dave's fingers awkwardly intertwined with his, a clumsy sign of bone-deep tenderness.

\- What is it you wanted to say? he asks him.

He smiles faintly, scratches the back of his neck:

\- Well, I thought... Okay, it could actually have been embarrassing blurting it out when you were all about touching my dick and living the dream.

\- How romantic.

\- Why, you really looked like you were enjoying yourself! Let's not be afraid of the big words, you know?

\- The rambling, please, stop the rambling.

\- Look who's talking, please, bromeo, don't pretend you're not part of the Elite Four of rambling uselessly to cover your feelings –

\- _Dave_.

\- Okay, okay. So. Um. You were going down on me and I thought – I thought you'd find this madly passionate, or something. So, I did want to say it, but I just didn't know I'd... Be, like, not talking and not doing anything.

\- Yes, I saw, you – was it okay with you, was it...

\- Yes! Yes, it was nice! It was nice. I liked it it, it was just, um. I wasn't prepared? For the nice. It was too much nice at once. It took me by surprise. Goddamned nice.

He grimaces, apparently displeased with himself:

\- Argh, fuck – that was the motherfucking epitome of lameness. Sorry you had to go through that.

\- No, no, I was okay – it was okay, I didn't care, it's okay.

He hesitates for a second, but they've already reached their quota of embarrassment for the day, so it cannot get worse:

\- It may have been... Kind of a tiny bit sexy.

Dave kind of stares. Karkat kind of wants to disappear in the ground.

\- Wow, he whispers. Really?

\- Well – yes.

\- Ah – yeah, well, that's, that's good, I guess. I mean – so you didn't think to yourself "fucking Dave Strider here, that guy took ages to agree to one damn hand job and isn't even capable of returning the favour like the fuckup he is"?

\- Erm. No? No, not at all, I wasn't – for Gl'bgolyb sake, Dave, we really need to work on your damn self-esteem. No, you know what? I thought it was _really fucking super_. You looked really good, you looked like you were enjoying yourself, I was making you feel good, it was great.

\- A rising dominatrix, Dave nods before Karkat tries to hit him on the shoulder (and fails).

Then he laughs again, and he holds Karkat's hand a bit tighter, swaying it upwards and backwards:

\- All that kink talking is fine and good and necessary, but – can we get back for a second to where we were? We'll discuss your dom tendencies later.

\- I'm going to pretend I didn't hear anything. Bring it on. I'm ready.

\- Okay, so. What I wanted to say is.

He pauses, rolls his eyes at no one in particular (except maybe himself), then says:

\- I. I really like you. As in, really like like you. As in, actually kind of really love you. What you call – you know, pity? Red pity? Yeah. And not just because you gave me my first hand job ever. Just because. I like you. You know?

Then he looks down, definitely trying to hide his shame and outstandingly failing (they've hit rock bottom today really), and looks up again – smiling, smiling, like he should, Karkat doesn't want to let go of that sight.

\- I love you too, Karkat answers.

Dave sniggers and swings their hands up in the air again:

\- Oh, cool.

\- What? What, is that all you have to say? "Oh, cool"?

\- What? What do you want me to say? All right, no, you're right, you deserve it: I love you too. Let's not do that again – but I love you too.

\- What? Do what again?

\- The "I like you" thing – it was good, downright lame and cheesy but it was good, but I don't want to wake everyone up looking like this –

\- I love you.

\- I love you.

\- I love you.

\- I love you – fuck, you – I haven't even seen your bulge.

\- Nothing prevents you from seeing it later. I love you.

\- I hope so. Dude, it was actually so fucking fine – I didn't know it could be like this, you know? I love you.

\- I love you, he repeats (and he means it, needs to say it... Needs to because on so many planes of reality he's dead, or Dave's dead, or they're both dead, and they never even met each other or they were too young, too rash; maybe it's the only timeline where they are both able to say this, and so after second thought he adds) and I want to know you.

Dave stays silent for a second. Then, his eyes meet his; fingers tightly entwined with his own; Karkat waits for him as he says, slowly, genuinely:

\- I want to know you too. I want to know this. I want to – explore, with you.

Karkat feels the smile bloom on his lips before he even knows it.

That's it. That's the word. That's the feeling. Get rising, start walking, you're not alone. Exploring. Dave gets it. How does he? He always does. Karkat's so glad he's here. So damn glad.

\- _Yes_ , he whispers in awe.

Then Dave kisses him, and all that Karkat can think of is _"so that's what wanderlust feels like"_.

* * *

 **Wow, do you know how hard it is to write Dave correctly ? Cause I do. It was my first time writing his character and let me tell you, this boy is layers on layers and he's so... Complex. I love him.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this fic ! Have all a very nice day !**


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